Sweets for the Sweet
by steelgray
Summary: When Draco meets Natasha, he's expecting to yell at her. After all, her type are the bane of his existence. But when she reveals that she's not just the shy girl she appears to be, but one fit to love, Draco can't help but pursue the elegant, flighty girl. Post Hogwarts.
1. Collision

**For Loki'sLittleEnchantress, who motivated me to write this.**

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Find something pretty, had been what a harried-looking Mr. Weasley had asked of her, Something that'll go well with the new taflet thing I found.

Wondering what in the world a 'taflet' was, Natasha Brenen had shrugged and acquiesced, dutifully leaving work to go and look for 'something pretty' to go with her employer's anniversary gift.

Which was how she'd ended up in the sweet shop, gazing at various taffies, chocolates, and fudges. As she didn't really indulge much in 'pretty' things, edibles would be the way to go. While it all looked scrumptious, she realized that she really didn't know Mrs. Weasley's palate, and that Mr. Weasley would expect her back soon to file the paperwork on another case.

Shrugging yet again, (How many times had she done that today?) and picking up two boxes of signature Honeydukes milk chocolate and macadamia nut truffles, (One for herself) she made her way to the register to pay for the purchase, rummaging through her coat pockets for her Personal Assistant Gringotts Card, hoping that she hadn't forgotten it yet again.

Which, ultimately, resulted in a collision.

The chocolates and card went flying, as the person turning the corner of a display rammed straight into a distracted Natasha. Gasping in surprise as she hit the floor, the girl sat, dazed, before realizing that there was someone that she'd knocked down.

"I'm so sorry!" She burst out, cheeks running red from embarrassment as the young man across from her simply stared, looking utterly confused as to why he was on the floor.

The expression began burgeoning on anger, and Natasha recoiled, offering to pay for whatever he'd been getting.

The young man couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Natasha's twenty-five, and he bore a very regal, very aristocratic look in his elegant features: long, lithe limbs, tall, with white-blonde hair and guarded grey eyes.

The man stared back at her, wondering why he wasn't yelling right now, why he wasn't up and demanding to know her name so some form of punishment could be rendered. The girl was obviously of the shy sort, if the way that she was curling in on herself and trying to make amends were anything to tell by.

He usually hated the snivelling of these types of people, too eager to please, too submissive, no personal thoughts of their own.

But there was something about her, the girl with the pale skin, almost as light as his own, dark auburn hair, her body light and willowy, with just the right amount of curves, and her eyes...vivid, electric blue, shot through with green flecks, framed by dark eyelashes. She wasn't the usual scum, anything but. He just didn't know why, what made her so different.

"Sir?"

But Draco was already sweeping out of the shop, fleeing those thought-reading eyes.

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**Hope you enjoyed it, I know its a short chapter, but the next one's coming up quick! If you liked it, please drop me a review.**

**Brenda.**


	2. Flowers

**Thanks, first of all, for the faves, follows and reviews. Y'all are amazing! **

**Second of all, I promised that this chapter would be longer, and thankfully, it is...a little bit.**

**Happy Valentine's Day, and if you're spending it reading fanfics, kudos to you, we can be loners together!**

**Cheers, Brenda.**

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Thoroughly unnerved, Natasha picked up her chocolate and card, making her way over to the counter to pay for them, mind whirring a mile a minute, wondering what had even happened.

The man she'd bumped into hadn't said one word to her, simply stared. It had, truthfully, rather frightened her. Thinking back on it rationally, however, Natasha found herself more than a little irked by the completely rude and almost cruel way that he'd treated her.

Determined to write off the experience, she smiled at the clerk, grabbed her bag, and made her way back to the Ministry, ready to take on the paperwork waiting at her desk.

Flooing back to Malfoy Towers, Draco Malfoy couldn't shake off those eyes, even when they were far removed from his sight, far away from him. He could still feel the probing gaze, confused as he stared, transfixed, at her.

Making his way past a simpering Pansy Parkinson (Why had he ever given her the desk job, honestly) and up the stairs, he entered his office and sat down at his desk, sighing before attending to the pile of papers in front of himself. He would never see her again, and it made no sense to dwell on one woman simply because of her features. He would not be so shallow.

Weeks passed, the snow starting to fall more and more heavily, the air and wind becoming crisper and drier than ever before, a typical London winter. Both Draco and Natasha had forgotten about one another; Natasha had written off the disdain and unlikely attraction she'd felt, Draco the temptation of her face. So it would only make sense, therefore, that fate seemed determined to throw them together yet again.

Another gift, thought Natasha, He must really love his wife. She'd been interrupted from her work that morning, Mr. Weasley poking his head into her cubicle to tell her to take a longer lunch, and would she please pick up a dozen daffodils at the florist's while she was out?

The dark-haired woman had nodded, merely inquiring if he'd like a vase to put them in before shrugging on her heavy woolen cloak and preparing to leave.

After a quick grilled lemon chicken sandwich and a mug of strong tea at the local cafe, Natasha headed to the flower shop, eloquently if not unoriginally called 'J'Adore Belle'. Luckily for her, the flower shop in Diagon Alley had access to imports of flowers, unlike the muggle one that was closed for the season.

Wandering around the over-warm little shop, she located the daffodils, plucking each flower with certainty, white fingertips just barely brushing the stems, the shopkeeper looking on in approval of her lithe delicacy with the blooms.

The sound of sweet Christmas bells filled the store as the door was opened quickly and then closed tightly. Natasha looked up, freezing when she realized just who it was.

It was him, the man she'd knocked down at the sweet shop a month ago.

Turning back to the flowers, she picked them more quickly, locating a blue, blown-glass vase and plopping the bright yellow flowers into them, adding little sprigs of greens for a balanced look.

As quickly as she'd worked, she hadn't worked fast enough, as a baritone voice rumbled close to her ear, "Pretty."

Jumping, nearly dropping the vase, Natasha bowed her head and blushed, voice, however, firm, when she spoke, "Thank you." She hoped fervently that he was referring to the flowers.

She expected the man to walk away, and to leave her alone, but she was surprised yet again when he continued to speak; after being so silent the last time she'd seen him.

"What are your favorites?"

"Oh," Natasha put all of her energy into keeping her voice clear, calm, and discreetly shifted away, "The usual, I suppose. Jasmine, roses, oriental lilies."

Not wanting to be rude, she moved away once more, and said, "Excuse me, but I must get back to work. My boss is expecting me."

And with that, she checked out, paid and left.

But Draco saw the way she walked rigidly, as his eyes followed her form.

Diagon Alley, Draco thought, perhaps she works at the Ministry.

He walked back to Malfoy Towers swiftly, after making a small purchase.

"Look up Natasha Brenen, tell me what you find," He strides into the lobby of the building, speaking to Pansy, who's currently painting her nails with another shade of bright green. Green. Draco resists the urge to shudder as she closes the cap on the polish. Foul liquid, nail polish. It would be all he could smell for the rest of the day, the potent dye smell stinging his nose.

"Ministry. Works as a personal assistant to Mr. Weasley, senior. Twenty-five. Currently single, had a bad relationship in the past, never got over it." Pansy looks up, sneering, "Wimp."

"House affiliation?"

Pansy sounds aghast when she reads the file. "Gryffindor, if you can believe it."

Strangely, Draco does. "That's all, Parkinson, you can return to your work."

Thank goodness she dropped her card the last time, Draco thought, I'd never get her name otherwise.

At the Ministry, a courier walks up to the tenth floor. "Delivery for Natasha Brenen?"

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	3. Delivery

**Sorry for not getting this out sooner, no time and then computer issues. Hopefully, the next chapter will come sooner. Enjoy!**

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Natasha stares at the flowers, Mr. Weasley looking at her curiously.

Taking the bouquet, she stares at the assortment. Jasmine, roses, oriental lilies, nestled in a bed of fresh green clover.

"Who are they from?" Mr. Weasley asks, as his PA's never been sent flowers before, and he'd like to see her with someone. In his opinion, she spends too much time alone, and works far too hard.

Pulling out the yellow card and unfolding it, she reads the silvery cursive script aloud, "'For the girl with favorite flowers that create a perfect bouquet, have an excellent day.' The stationary said that the card was from Royal Building & Loan." She looks up, "Who would've sent these?"

Mr. Weasley smiles good naturedly, "I have no idea, dear, but it looks like you have yourself an admirer." The man smiles at her once more, tips his hat, and leaves.

Natasha sat down, brow furrowed in concentration. Who...?

"_Pretty."_

"_Thank you."_

"_What are your favorites?"_

"_Oh, the usual I suppose. Jasmine, roses, oriental lilies."_

The realization clicked: it had been that man she'd met, first in the sweet and then the flower shop.

Deciding, for once, that work could wait, Natasha stood up and went off in search of the company's records, with hopes to find the mystery man.

It really hadn't been that hard to find the records and locate the man. The problem hadn't laid in that. The problem was the result.

Draco Malfoy. Malfoy. He was only a few years older than her, which meant he had been a part of the war. The war that the Malfoy family had fought on the wrong side of.

Natasha's parents had fought in the beginnings of the war, and Mr. Weasley had known them, part of the reason she'd gotten the job as PA to him. Greg and Nora Brenen, her parents. They'd died in their home; Voldemort was seeking to eradicate her family, and had sent his Death Eaters to make sure that the job got done. She'd been just fourteen at the time, and it had hit her hard.

It had only been by sheer luck, in that it was summertime and she was home from Hogwarts, that Natasha had been at a muggle friend's house, and not at her house. When she returned to the blackened remains of her house, she'd already known what had happened.

After being orphaned, she'd been taken in by her paternal grandmother, who, while stern, wasn't unkind, reminding her of her dad. Being left without parents at such a young age had caused Natasha to fold in on herself, become shyer than she already was. Most of the time, she could be found in the library, or up in the air on her broomstick, though she never played for a team. Being a good student who was quiet and never got into trouble bought her most liberties with her caretaker, and when her grandmother had died, she'd been left a sizable sum of money, in addition to her parents', and had used some of the money to fund the rest of her education.

The problem, however, didn't lay in Draco himself, but his father, Lucius.

Lucius Malfoy had been the Death Eater to claim her home, the leader of the process, as he'd admitted in court, as well as her parents' lives, in support of Voldemort.

Lucius was dead now, from natural causes, but the memories that came with the Malfoy family were too much to bear.

Blinking back the water in her eyes and straightening her shoulders, Natasha walked out of the records room, and returned resolutely to work. Who cared if he'd taken an interest in her? She didn't.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, the work she'd been assigned finished quicker than ever. But the praise Mr. Weasley gave her fell on almost-deaf ears, and she barely nodded in response. Her employer, understanding that something was bothering his young assistant and that he shouldn't be offended, simply gave her a pat on the back.

"Oh, Natasha," he said, poking his head back into her cubicle as he left, "Someone from one of our major sponsor companies is coming in next Monday, you may want to dress a bit nicely. It's Friday, why don't you take off a bit early?"

Snapping out of her funk long enough to give him a smile, she said, "Sure, Mr. Weasley, thanks. I'll see you on Monday."

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**And that's a wrap! If you followed/favorite/reviewed I would really appreciate it. Thanks!**

**Brenda xoxo**


	4. Business

**I am so sorry for not updating like..erm..*coughs* two weeks ago. But I am back now, and I really hope that you all love this (much longer than normal) chapter. Thank you to all my supporters and reviewers, you really make me smile (and jump up and down, grin like an idiot, etc.)**

**Sorry Again! And enjoy!**

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Standing in the doorway of her little London flat, Natasha looked once more in the mirror that stood her opposite, feeling an odd foreboding as she prepared to leave.

Remembering Mr. Weasley's words, she'd switched out her normal black pencil skirt for a pair of long, slimming grey pants, black, silver clasped heels, and a cinched, silky grey and black, flower-printed, cap-sleeved top. Her hair was simple as ever, pulled into a half ponytail with an ear poking out of the dark red strands. Taking the time to put in silver heart studs and put on a delicate purple heart bracelet, she reflected on the fact that she looked even more delicate, perhaps a bit elf-like, than usual.

Not allowing it to interfere with her resolve to get to work, she closed and locked the door to her flat and stepped out onto the busy street.

Work continued as normal, Mr. Weasley stopping by with her assignments and letting her know when her meeting would be, and telling her that it would be with a representative from Royal Building & Loan, though he didn't know who it was.

Natasha continued to work through the expenses sheets, nodding at her boss. She only took the time for a cup of coffee every so often, skipping lunch to make up for her folly last week Friday. She wasn't very hungry anyway, meetings always made her a little nervous.

The knock, then, when it rang in her room, thoroughly startled her, and she'd dropped an entire case of files.

Cursing under her breath, she glanced up to see, to her immense surprise (this was really too usual to be a suprise), that the man standing before her is none other than Draco Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?"

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Natasha blushed red as a beet, "I mean, Sir, are you here for the meeting?"

"I am." Draco covers up his smug smirk with a cough, "Draco Malfoy, at your service."

"Natasha Brenen. Won't you sit down?" She's trying to be as professional as possible, maintain control over the situation. As if Draco would somehow allow that to happen, someone who prided himself in control.

"Actually," Draco leans against the door to her office, "Perhaps we could visit a particular favorite of mine, downtown."

"I'd have to clear it-"

"If it's alright, I've taken the liberty to clear it with Mr. Weasley."

"Al-Alright." Who was she to refuse? If she did, it would surely reflect badly on her as an employee. Natasha tried to tell herself that, yes, that was the only reason.

"Excellent! Why don't you grab your coat; we'll be off then."

Wordlessly, Natasha picks up her black trenchcoat, clasps it, and gestures for the blond man to lead the way.

They make their way out of the building in silence, Draco holding the doors for his female counterpart, making her blush and murmur 'thank-yous', reverting, out of habit, to her shy manner.

"So, Royal Building & Loan is a...division of Malfoy Towers, then?"

"Yes," Draco sidesteps a crack in the cobbled walk, "But we shall talk business when we arrive, alright?"

"Okay," Even though his words are slightly admonishing, Natasha hears the kind undertone. Racking her brains for something at least somewhat intelligent and inoffensive to say, she replies, "Thank you for the flowers, they were lovely."

"You knew it was me?" Of course she had, anyone with a modicum of sense would, thought Draco. That test, at least, had been passed.

"Well, you were the only one to ask."

"I see. You are very welcome, and I'm glad that you liked them. We're here."

"Oh..." Natasha looked up. This restaurant.

"Do you not like Italian? We can go elsewhere."

"No, no, its fine," replied Natasha.

The maitre'd, as they stepped up the marble steps and Draco opened the door, rushes to greet them.

"Mr. Malfoy!" says the older man, "Right this way."

"Thank you, Borgon," replies Draco.

Once they're seated at a white, linen covered table for two, separated from the rest of the folk by a blood-red curtain, looking out over the streets of the Alley, Borgon whisks out the wine menu.

"What do you recommend?" asks Draco airily, "I'm in the mood for something different."

"This wine here," Borgon points, leaning over Draco's shoulder, "The red, a little younger than a typical good wine, but it has a bit of a fruity, nutty flavor. Good for midday."

"We'll take it," the blonde replies, "If it's alright with you, Natasha?"

"Oh," she blushes, she didn't drink much, "That's fine."

"Excellent," Borgon smiles at her, "Should we start with an appetizer?"

"Yes, thank you, Borgon. Surprise us."

"Yes, sir."

The man walks away, and Draco turns to smile at Natasha, "Good man, Borgon, has excellent taste."

"Uh huh," Natasha murmurs, "Take no offense, but this," she waves around the restaurant, wealthy witches and wizards aplenty, "Really wasn't necessary for a simple business meeting."

Borgon returns with the wine before Draco has a chance to respond, popping the cork and pouring the liquid into the glasses, before bowing out with another smile.

"This?" Draco queries as the man leaves, "What do you mean?" How he enjoys watching the witch in front of him squirm, obviously unused to splendor. But he ignores the other part of the enjoyment, the part that wants to give her more of it.

"Nothing," she replies, "It's nothing."

"Alright," replies Draco, "Tell me a little bit about yourself. You're Mr. Weasley's PA then?"

"Yes, I have been for about few years now."

"Long time, haven't you ever wanted for a higher position?"

Natasha's eyes shift, giving her away, "I'm happy where I am now, Mr. Weasley is a very good boss."

"I see," said Draco.

"Grilled mushrooms topped with black pepper, cream cheese and bing cherry sauce," said Borgon, approaching them with a steaming platter, lifting off the lid, "Enjoy."

"Thank you," said Natasha.

Picking up his fork, Draco carefully speared one of the mushrooms, lifting it up to Natasha's mouth, "Try."

Obediently, she opened her mouth, gently taking the proffered fungi, eyes closing slightly at the sweet taste of cherries combined with the creaminess of the hot cheese. "Hmm," She murmured in appreciation, "That's really good."

Taking the next offered mushroom, Natasha couldn't help but reflect that this felt more like some sort of fancy date than a business meeting. Brushing it off to Draco being a gentleman, she decided to broach the topic of business.

"So," she smiled, "Is the time for business matters here yet?"

Making a big show of checking his watch, Draco answered, "Unfortunately, yes. Let's try to get it over with quickly, then."

"It'll go very quickly...Just let me have my way," Natasha winked, offsetting her words to show that, yes, they were a joke. Kind of.

Draco laughed, "Honestly, Mr. Weasley just wanted you to look over the contracts and finalize everything." He pulled out the paperwork. "It's fairly straightforward."

"I think I can hack it," Natasha replied drily, "I do this every day, after all."

"Be my guest," he hands her the pen he has in his breast pocket, "Just sign the line if everything looks alright."

Natasha read, getting the gist of the proposition as she read. It was really commonplace, just another set of condominiums to be built in muggle London. It was standard even. Reading the document twice to make sure that she hadn't missed something important that made this such a hard sell, she was finally convinced that she could sign the line in good faith that it would be okay.

"There you are," she hands the pen and paper back to him. "Is that okay?"

"Perfect," he replies, "Thank you."

"Is that...is that all?" Natasha asks, not wanting to sound eager to leave, or worse yet, rude.

"Well, I was thinking that since we were already here, we could have something to eat..." Draco lets his voice trail off, letting the meaning behind the words speak.

Natasha blushed, "Oh, yes, that'd be fine. Lovely."

Borgon appears then, like he'd been listening all along, "Dinner menus, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, thank you."

Handing them the printed stationery, Borgon lingers.

Setting his menu aside, Draco says, "I think I'll have the usual. Natasha?"

"Um..." Natasha wants all of the dishes, they all sound amazing. "I think I'll try the lamb chops, here." She shows Borgon, and he nods, obviously pleased with her choice.

Draco is impressed at her fine palate; the lamb chops were one of the best on the restaurant's menu, however, it was obvious that she hadn't known that. Good intuition, maybe.

Soon enough, Borgon brings their dishes and the pair begin to eat.

"This isn't terribly business-like," Natasha says as they tuck in, "But I'm glad, most business meetings aren't like this."

"In other words, terribly boring."

"I didn't say that."

"What else can they be?"

Natasha cocks her head to the side, looking contemplative. Draco has to admit, it's absolutely adorable. Like a puppy. "Informative."

He laughs again, and Natasha cracks a smile, knowing that, yes, he knew that she thought business meetings to be boring. "It's a bit different, I suppose," she rushed to say, "You can't possibly be much older than me, I mean."

"I'm twenty-seven."

"Ladies don't give away their ages, but I'm not a proper lady," Natasha grinned, "I'm twenty-five, in case you were curious."

"I was guessing seventeen," Draco winked, met with Natasha's bell-like tinkle of a laugh.

"Of course you were." Her tone indicates disbelief, to which he replies with a smug smirk. She was turning out to be a rather interesting girl, and he was definitely interested.

"To be completely honest," Draco sets his fork down, grey eyes meeting questioning blue, "This wasn't a completely business-oriented meeting."

"What do you mean?"

"Remember the first time you saw me?"

"Sure, in the flower shop." And the candy store, she thought, but he wouldn't have remembered that.

"No, no, before that. The candy shop. You knocked me down?"

Natasha coloured. "I'm sor-"

"It's really alright," Draco says, smiling. "Because you were interesting. And most people aren't interesting."

"What are they then?"

"Boring. Mostly."

"What's different about me?"

"That you aren't. And before you ask, I'm not quite sure why."

"So, what are you expecting here, to have me until I become boring because the mystique's gone away?" Her voice hardens somewhat. She knew the type. It'd happened one too many a time before.

"Of course not. I didn't even entertain such a thought. Why are you so scared?" Draco's confused; why would she jump to that conclusion?

"I'm not scared."

"And?"

"And what? Were you offering-what exactly? A date? Dating? I'm sorry, but the answer's no."

"No? Why?"

"Because."

"No, no, we have something here. Why are you pushing me away?"

"Because my bloody parents were killed by your side."

"What are you-oh."

"Yeah, oh!"

He should have known that this would happen. That his past would get in his way. The first time in years he'd shown interest in someone, and what had to happen? Only to have her parents killed by Him.

There wasn't a day that went by that Draco didn't wish that he'd been stronger, strong enough to say no, not this time. To be able to fight back. But fear had ruled his every move, even though there had been no real devotion or care to what happened to his cause. He had just wanted out, surely that had counted for something?

"So that's it? That's your only real reason? Something that I didn't even do?"

Natasha's head snaps up, she hadn't been expecting that. A 'sorry' maybe, him leaving possibly. But not that.

She lifted her chin. "I just can't, Draco."

"Why?" his voice rises, unravelling that silk and diamonds clad mind before her like a carpet, "I was sixteen, seventeen years old!"

"It wasn't you!" It really was. This was too overwhelming, and she should have expected this. "I just, I just can't...Can't do it."

This was her worst nightmare confirmed. Interesting, killing. It was all too much.

"I'm sorry," She rose. She. Would. Not. Cry. "I have to go. I hope that this doesn't reflect badly on Mr. Weasley. I'm sorry."

And she fled.

Natasha was in her cubicle later that evening, so immersed in her work that her boss had to call her name three times, accompanied by pokes.

"What?" her eyes refocused on him. "Oh, hello, Mr. Weasley! Sorry."

"Not a problem, not a problem," he replies, "I'm in a bit of a rush, but I just wanted to see how your meeting with Mr. Malfoy went. He can be harsh, but he's very fair."

"It went perfectly," Natasha lied.

"That's good. I thought that you'd get on well," said he, not realizing how much worse he was making it for her, "Why I sent you, really. He's a good lad, was in the same year as my Ron. He's in Romania on vacation right now, with Harry and Hermione. But Draco Malfoy was a very bright boy, second in his year after Hermione. He was a bit of a bully, but what can you expect? Family background like his. But after the war, he changed a lot. Stopped being ruled by fear, I think that's what did it. Got everything in order, changed for the better. He's someone I'm honored to do business with, honestly. Well, I'm off. Have a good night, Natasha."

"Good night, Mr. Weasley," she answered dazedly, thinking just one thing.

Oh my goodness, I was wrong.

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**This chapter was a little hard to get to make sense, but Natasha's complete and utter terrifiedness will (hopefully) make sense in later chapters. Again, I am sorry, and would completely understand if you guys didn't leave me reviews. But if you would *swoons*.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	5. Pansy

**Pansy, Pansy, Pansy *Shakes head in disappointment*.**

The weeks passed Natasha by with little flavor, little fervor. The same routines that had been before so satisfying were now relentlessly orthodox, so much so that it felt that she was drowning some days in the sameness of it all.

It didn't mean that she'd changed her mind about Draco Malfoy though.

"Natasha?"

"Mph?" Natasha asked, rising with a start from the piece of paperwork she'd been surveying, tired eyes looking up. "Yes, Sir?"

"If it isn't a trouble," Mr. Weasley said, wondering what had happened to his normally energetic, peppy employee, "I need you to pick up some things from the Alley."

"Sure, Sir," Natasha replied agreeably, rubbing at her eyes, feeling more thankful than ever that she didn't wear makeup, "What sort of things?"

"Oh, knickknacks mostly," replied Mr. Weasley, "Here's the list; and don't be in any hurry back," he added, teasingly stern, "Or we'll run out of work for you."

"Alright," replied the redhead, smiling, "I'll be back soon."

"Late," replied the man as he left.

It was while walking down to Diagon Alley that Natasha could see it, even on this cold, the people.

More specifically, the people and their add-on.

Now, Natasha always thought with her most logical state of mind, never using the emotional side whenever she could help it. Didn't cry, didn't feel, apethetic really. It was just how she'd always been, since...then.

And it was now that she remembered why people fell in love; just the simple way that they'd as human beings had been designed to be. Logically.

Seeing those people though...girls in their mid-teens, out on double-dates with their friends, women her age, holding coffees and letting their boyfriends block the wind, smiles on their faces, the older folk who were still together, made her want that very same thing. Emotionally.

But to want that with someone of the Malfoy line, a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, completely illogical.

But logical.

So when her feet began to point her in the direction of Malfoy Towers, Natasha broke down that barrier, and let her feet carry her through those spinning glass doors.

The first thing Natasha noticed was how very corporate the interior looked, with mahogany fountains and ponds full of koi fish, a standard grey colour scheme, and porcelain floors.

The second thing she noticed was that it was strangely quiet, the walls all windows, with a few chairs scattered about, and another door that probably led to the stairs.

The third thing that she noticed was that the only other person in the room besides herself was the receptionist, who was dark-haired and strangely pug-faced, who was regarding her with a scowl, neon green nails brushing against her face.

Well, thought Natasha, striving to conquer the introverted nature that seemed to always be against her, I work for the Ministry of Magic, and not as a receptionist either! And...and I'm prettier than you!

Natasha realized then that her mental pep talk was not working, and she should probably just get this over with before this other lady, with a nameplate that read 'Pansy Parkinson', thought she was weird.

Striding, Natasha hoped, with confidence toward the other woman, who looked a little older than her, Natasha prayed she wouldn't trip, like in one of those muggle movies.

"Hi," she think she said, perhaps a little breathlessly, "I'm here to see Mr. Malfoy. Is he available?"

Please.

"And your name is?" Pansy asked, her voice grating and dripping with venom. Natasha struggled not to recoil at the vehement dislike in the other lady's voice. Bad day, perhaps?

"Natasha Brenen," she replied with a little smile, "I'm from the Ministry."

"Oh, you," she replied, an (surely it wasn't) evil smile gracing her face, "I'm sorry, but Draco wouldn't want anything to do with you, dear."

"Why not?"

"You simply aren't, oh, how to put this delicately, "Qualified."

"I see," Natasha replied sharply, the receptionist's open condensation grating at her nerves.

"Oh, and looky here," she continues, obviously not feeling thorough enough in her rejection, "Not on the lists either."  
"I get it," Natasha snaps, "He doesn't want to see me. Have a nice day, Miss Parkinson."

And with her pride in shambles, Natasha admits defeat and leaves. She would never try to contact him again.

Quickly gathering the items that Mr. Weasley required, (honestly, tasks he could've sent the interns to do, she must've really cleared out the work) biting back the water in her eyes, trying to convince herself that they weren't tears, she returned to the office.

Meanwhile, Draco had just come downstairs, looking drawn and tired. "News?" he snapped at Pansy.

"That lady stopped in today," Pansy said.

"The one that was convinced her plot was worth double what it really was?"

"No, Draco," Pansy giggled, "The one, oh, what was her name? That Natasha girl."

Draco choked on his coffee, "What did she want?"

"To see you. I told her that you didn't want to see her. She didn't seem worth the time to me."

"You did what?"

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed, dear reader! Review, follow or favorite at your fancy :)**

**Thanks!**

**Brenda xoxo**


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